


Doughnut Holes and Cannons

by shoetingstar



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Interracial Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4225449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoetingstar/pseuds/shoetingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sleepy Hollow FLASH Fiction where Ichabod redirects his "feelings" for Abbie. You might gain weight reading this. lol. Sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doughnut Holes and Cannons

Oh yes, my friend. You are mine.

Ichabod thought secretly as the most delicious smile appeared upon his lips.

With increasing desire he cupped the brown sweet morsels within his large eager hands. His obsession had grown with each memory and passing day for the seductive blend of firm, yet yielding…

(He gently placed it upon his tongue.)

…dough, the heady scent of…

(Yuuummm.)

…cinnamon and the satisfying saccharine taste of…

(A sweet rush.)

…melting sugarcane, releasing a pure joy he longed to experience repeatedly.

The flavors seized the interior of his mouth.

How did it taste better each time?

In its square red and white container on top of the coffee table, was his next conquest. He would soon tickle the tip with flicks of his hungry tongue. Then feel the buttery crust, the hot, gooey cheese, the spicy sausage, the lively green peppers exploding within the reaches of his mouth…

Abbie playfully elbowed him, interrupting his mental indulgences as she sat next to him on the couch.

"Have you gained a few pounds?" she said.

"Have I? I really had not noticed," he said truthfully.

Ichabod looked down at himself in interest. He still needed time to get used to the 21st century clothing his body wore. The jeans were not bad. However, the very casual midnight blue t-shirt was not as welcome. Abbie only laughed when he asked about this "Captain America" and why there was a target practice sign on his shirt front. (She also presented him with a "Dr. Who" shirt one day. Were physicians in the habit of advertising on clothing now?) He knew he was missing some humor directed at his expense. Nevertheless, she did also express that it suited him and that was enough for Ichabod. He suspected, truthfully he hoped, that she enjoyed dressing him.

Abbie was clad in a form-fitting trouser she called a yoga pant and a sleeveless shirt as she looked for the device that made the TV work.

(She gently placed herself upon his thoughts.)

(As usual.)

It was amazing what trousers did to the womanly figure. She was tiny, but then she would turn…

(Yuuummm.)

…and he would hear the boom of a cannon blast as he took in the generous curve of her backside.

(A sweet rush.)

Additionally, when he visually delighted himself on the other peaks, and turns, and curves that were not hidden by the voluminous clothing styles that were acceptable during his time…

(His hands…)

(His tongue…)

Well, it was all entirely glorious.

"Not that I'm complaining," Abbie said, after finding the remote.

(Her hands…)

(Her tongue…)

He looked away before she turned.

He stuffed another doughnut hole into his mouth and soon followed with more.

Mmm…Yes, yes.

"Was that a compliment Miss Mills?"

She then actually touched his arm.

(Boom. Fire. Smoke.)

After committing the significant act of a small squeeze to his bicep where it met the sleeve, she quickly pulled back and began to absorb herself in changing the channels. Encouraged, and suddenly even more famished, Ichabod ate more of the baked goods and some slices of pizza heartedly as they watched a moving painting called The Avengers.

Now, he finally got the Captain America reference.

THE END.

DISCLAIMER: Regarding the characters related to the FOX television show SLEEPY HOLLOW. I DO NOT OWN SLEEPY HOLLOW or its characters. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and with the creative affection of a fan. No profit was made from this work. No copyright infringement intended..


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